


Taken

by riddlewrappedinanenygma



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Female Reader, Kidnapped Reader, Multichapter, Obsessive Jeremiah, Pregnancy, Pregnant Reader, Romance, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, primarily edward x reader, some torture, updates posted weekly, we have about 25k words so far, with some jeremiah x reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-25 20:51:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15648735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riddlewrappedinanenygma/pseuds/riddlewrappedinanenygma
Summary: You’re eight months pregnant and finally living with Edward in his comfy studio apartment. Life couldn’t be better and it seems like nothing could tear you two apart… until a visit from a certain clown prince of crime does just that.





	1. chapter one

Tonight was a night like any other, one in which you found yourself blissfully content to be at home, sprawled out across the bed with a dog-eared pregnancy book in hand as Edward milled about the apartment after dinner. He hummed a quiet tune as he straightened up the kitchen and you felt a surge of gratitude watching him work. Ever since you’d moved in a few weeks ago he was doting upon you left and right, making sure that you felt as comfortable as possible and ensuring that you wouldn’t have to lift a finger when he was present. Normally this isn’t something you’d be comfortable with– relationships are a two-way street, after all, and you certainly knew how to take care of yourself– but given your current state of affairs you gratefully allowed him to do so and contented yourself with reading your book.

The clanging of the pots and pans in the sink ceased for a moment, and you looked up from your reading, heat rushing to your face when you realized Edward’s gaze was fixed upon you, a soft look in his eyes. You lowered the book, smiling at him and biting your lip shyly before asking, “Penny for your thoughts?”

Edward walked towards you, abandoning the rest of the plates on the dining room table as he plopped down next to you with a happy sigh, “You are going to make a perfect mother, you know that?”

You beamed, snuggling up next to him and laying your head on his chest, “I know I’ll try to be, at least. What I do know is that I can do anything so long as I have you.”

“You’re only saying that because I made your favorite for dinner,” Edward teased, shifting his weight on the bed so that he straddled your hips, hands resting on either side of your waist. He put one hand on top of your swollen belly, feeling around for the baby, “Has she been moving a lot recently?”

“She was before dinner,” you giggled as his hand slipped underneath your shirt, unintentionally tickling your side on their way up your body. He leaned down and kissed your neck, and you breathily replied, “She was tired of me rummaging around the apartment looking for extra blankets, I think… but I could get used to this whole ‘nesting’ thing, makes it feel a little more cozy in here.”

“Hmm,” he hummed into your neck, peppering kisses along your jawline and down to your collarbone, “Now that you’re all moved in we should finish the nursery, don’t you think? Get a crib in here and make it look a little more child-friendly?”

“Yes!” Your heart leaped with joy and you pulled his face gently towards yours, lips meeting in a heated kiss as his hand found its way to your bra and unhooked the clasps. Your breath hitched as your breasts fell free of their restraints, sensitive nipples sending electricity through your body when they rubbed against the loose fabric of your shirt. Edward was quick to grab one, flicking a thumb over the nipple and smiling into the kiss as you keened against him. Your head fell back against the headboard as his other hand traveled down your hip, slipping under the waistband of your pants and fingering the hem of your panties.

Edward’s hand slipped slowly, torturously, beneath the hem and just barely ghosted across your sensitive bundle of nerves when suddenly you were interrupted by a heavy knock upon the front door. You felt Edward’s body stiffen and he removed his hands from your body, turning towards the door with a frown. You straightened your clothes, making sure to hook the clasp of your bra back up quickly, and murmured, “Are we expecting anybody?” Edward shook his head in response, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as he stood up from the bed.

Approaching the front on light feet, Edward peeped through the small hole in the door, a dark look sweeping across his face as he observed the visitors on the other side. He looked to you and you mouthed silently, ‘Who is it?’ He shook his head once in warning and put one finger to his lips in a shushing motion, stepping back from the door and watching the shadows underneath the doorframe. You willed them to walk away, ears ringing in the silence, and jumped when a moment later another knock shook the door, louder and more powerful this time, enough to dismount a picture hanging on the wall next to it. You winced as it shattered, sending shards of glass sprawling across the floor. Suddenly a voice rang out from behind the door, “You know, I’m only knocking out of what you might call ‘professional courtesy’,” the voice was threateningly calm, and just hearing it sent a chill through you, “Keep ignoring me and I will have to show you just how discourteous I can be.”

Edward’s jaw clenched and he looked to you, urgently motioning you to get up. “Hide,” he whispered, gesturing to the closet, “Quickly!”

You scrambled to your feet and whispered back, “Be careful,” before sprinting to the closet and sliding in amongst the hanging jackets. You could see Edward’s whole studio apartment from here, vision cut off only slightly by the horizontal slats of the closet door. Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched Edward grab his gun from the bedside table, stuffing it into his back pocket and grabbing his hat from the coat rack near the door. He straightened his suit jacket and adjusted his glasses before clearing his throat and turning the handle of the front door,

“Good evening gentlemen. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” Edward gave a tight-lipped smile to the men at the door. From your vantage point you couldn’t see who it was yet, but from Edward’s rigid posture and cool demeanor you could tell he was not happy about whoever was standing opposite him in the doorway. Despite attempting to block the whole of the doorway with his small frame you saw him get pushed past almost immediately, two burly-looking men all dressed in black forcing their way into the apartment. The fact that they so brazenly entered your home alarmed you, but it was when you saw the third and final man walk through the doorway that your hand shot to cover your mouth, gasping in horror as you recognized him immediately: Jeremiah Valeska.

Jeremiah pushed his way in, took a cursory look around the room, and his eyes settled slowly onto the dining room table where two place settings were still made up, dirty dishes not having been put away just yet. Panic flashed across Edward’s face briefly but he composed himself quickly. A sly smile made its way onto Jeremiah’s pale face, wild eyes boring into Edward, “Are we interrupting?”

“No,” he replied immediately, feigning disinterest, “Luckily my dinner guest has left for the evening.”

“So they have,” Jeremiah mused, gaze never straying from Edward’s face. “I have a proposition for you,” he drawls, hands tucked firmly in the pockets of his velvet jacket. Something told you that you didn’t want to find out what he held in those pockets. From your vantage point you could only see the back of him, the slight upward tilt of his head as he locked eyes with Edward. You noted, faintly, how the dark green of his hair shone vibrantly under the green neon sign outside the loft’s windows. He paused for a beat, allowing a moment for Edward to respond, but when Edward did not he continued, “A business venture, in a manner of speaking. I’m sure you’ve seen my work around the city, have you not?”

Edward nodded stiffly in response. Jeremiah continued, “I require your assistance. You see, my brother only touched the tip of the iceberg when it comes to this great city’s potential. He managed to shake things up, at least for a while,” he paused dramatically, “but I intend to rule.”

“You and every other criminal in Gotham city,” Edward retorted sharply, eyes narrowing at the shorter man. You wished you could scream at him, tell him to not provoke this madman, but all you could do was close your eyes in dread.

The air in the room had changed quickly with his response and the tension was almost palpable. You heard Jeremiah chuckle darkly, “Now, let me first clear the air of any confusion, Mr. Nygma: You will accept my proposition, and in doing so I expect you to be aptly… motivated.”

Edward raised his eyebrows, feigning benign amusement, “And how do you figure?”

You could hear the smirk in Jeremiah’s voice, “I was so hoping you’d ask that. Men, search the flat. It seems our dear riddle-loving friend is hiding from us a very special guest…”

At that time the two thugs lurched forward, one cracking his knuckles, a grimace on his face. Terror washed over you as one approached the closet where you hid, your hands instinctively covering the swell of your stomach, as if you could protect your unborn child from the oncoming threat. You felt your knees buckle underneath you as the closet door was wrenched open, barely processing Edward’s panicked, “Leave her out of this,” as large hands grabbed you by the arms and flung you into the room. The sudden momentum caused you to stumble, landing with a crack on your knees. You winced, knees throbbing, and glanced with water-filled eyes at Edward. He stared back at you, eyes wide and mouth open as if to say something, fingers twitching toward the back pocket where he’d stashed his gun.

“Ah-ah,” Jeremiah tutted, motioning with his fingers to his men who drew their guns on the both of you without hesitation. “Drop the weapon, Mr. Nygma… We don’t want a fire fight today, not in the presence of such… valuable company.” Edward froze, hand midway to his pocket, and sent a long, helpless look your way before grabbing his firearm and placing it gently on the floor. In any other situation you knew he wouldn’t have given in this easily, but with you present everything was different. He kicked the gun away, where it came to rest at Jeremiah’s feet. The man bent down to pick it up, stuffing it into the inside pocket of his jacket and sending a curt nod Edward’s way.

Jeremiah turned to face you fully then, and fixed you with a cold, calculating stare. His pale skin seemed to glow in the dim lighting, flashes of green shadowing his face from the neon sign. The intensity of his eyes, unwavering from yours, unnerved you greatly and you tore your gaze from his, directing it instead at his feet. “Now this is a surprise,” Jeremiah stepped forward and knelt down in front of you, but you refused to meet his eye, “How far along are you, Ms…?”

He trailed off, waiting for your answer, but you pursed your lips shut, knowing that you must look like a deer in headlights. You could feel your heart pounding nearly out of your chest and all you could do was think, over and over, ‘Not the baby, please, not the baby.’ Your arms crossed protectively over your belly and you saw Edward take one step toward you, as if to try and shield you. Jeremiah saw this out of the corner of his eye and lifted his hand, signaling the two thugs to cock their guns; one pointed at your head, and the other at Edward. “Answer me.” It was not a request, and a chill went down your spine when your eyes met his once more.

You took in a shaky breath, “8 months.”

“And your name?”

“F/N L/N”

Seeming satisfied by your responses he put his hands on his knees and pushed himself upward, “Well, Ms. L/N, I hardly have to tell you what’s at stake if Mr. Nygma does not comply with my requests, do I?”

You gave your head a slow, reluctant shake and looked to Edward, whose hands were balled into white-knuckled fists. “This does not concern her,” he gritted out, “I will go wherever you want to take me, do whatever you want me to do, but you will leave her out of this.” Jeremiah’s head tilted to the side, an almost gentle look on his face,

“Oh, I know you will, Mr. Nygma, but just in case…” he snapped his fingers and the thug who’d grabbed you earlier hoisted you roughly to your feet, holding onto your upper arms so tightly that you could already feel bruises appearing. Jeremiah stepped towards you once more and looked curiously, almost pensively, at your stomach, laying a hand atop it. That broke Edward’s resolve and he charged towards Jeremiah, yelling, “Get your hands off of her!”

Jeremiah never broke his stare at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as the other thug caught Edward from behind, stopping him mere inches away. Your blood boiled as the criminal’s hand rested so carelessly on you, but you couldn’t risk moving with the gun still pointed at your head. You looked to Edward struggling with the man next to you and held back a sob as he took a heavy blow to his face, the thug kneeing him in the stomach so hard that he fell to the floor, earning a kick to the groin the moment he hit the hard surface. A gun was again pointed at him as he lay on the floor, blood seeping from a large gash under his eye. He looked from the gun to you, and you’d never seen anyone look so helpless.

“Ms. L/N,” Jeremiah says, retracting his hand from you, “You and I will be taking leave of your lovely home for a while, unless you can think of any objections?” You knew he must find himself terribly clever and you wanted to scream at him, punch him, maul him out of existence. He adjusted the sleeves of his jacket and dusted them off nonchalantly, as if this were the most sane request in the world.

The man behind you nudged you forward but you resisted, nearly paralyzed with trepidation. “Move,” he grunted, and yet you stood your ground. You heard him chuckle threateningly, and saw him raise the butt of his gun out of the corner of your eye, clearly intending to strike you when a single shot rang out. You recoiled in horror, certain that you had been hit. When the pain didn’t come you opened your eyes and saw Jeremiah, standing there with his arm outstretched in your direction, gun in hand, smoke drifting upward towards the ceiling. There was a loud thunk as the thug’s body hit the floor behind you, and a small river of blood spread to your slippered feet.

Jeremiah lowered his arm and tucked the gun back into his pocket, “See, I’ll take great care of you and your child, Ms. L/N, so long as the dear father does exactly as I say.” He looked down at Edward, a sneer on his pale face, “Do I make myself clear?”

Edward spat some blood from his mouth, glaring up at the clown, “I swear, if any harm comes to them I will kill you.”

“Tsk, tsk, such idle threats coming from someone in no position to be making them. Do not make me repeat myself again: Am. I. Clear?”

A pause, then Edward rasped, “Yes.”

With a smug look at both you and Edward he continued, “Excellent. As I am not a needlessly cruel man, I will let you say your goodbyes.” He caught the remaining thug’s attention and motioned for him to exit the room. “We will allow you a brief moment.”

The man lumbered away from where Edward was still sprawled on the floor. Without a gun pointing at him he was able to scramble up quickly, and you rushed to his arms, knees buckling in relief when you felt him around you. You’d never held onto anything this tightly before, arms aching where the bruises had sprung up as you buried your head in his chest and began to weep. Adrenaline had been spurring you forward until this point, and now that you had a second to breathe it was all crashing down on you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he murmured, over and over, lips pressed against the top of your head as he held you close. You could hear a strangled sob escape his throat and felt wetness on his cheek as he kissed your temple, cheek, and finally your lips. He closed his eyes, steeling himself with a deep breath, and said, “I can’t let him take you, I can’t–” and with that he pulled away from you, charging again at Jeremiah, who pulled out a gun with a flick of his wrist and shot without hesitation.

“EDWARD!” you screamed, running to his side and catching his limp body before it could hit the floor. You could barely see through your tears as you knelt down beside him and watched blood seep through his white button-up. A numb sort of relief washed through you as you realized the bullet just barely grazed his side and didn’t hit any vital organs. You applied pressure to the wound and Edward stirred, body shaking in your arms. You used your forearm to wipe away the tears dripping down your face and said, “It’s going to be okay, you’ll be okay, just keep breathing and you’ll be okay…”

You noted, vaguely, that Jeremiah was watching your every move, and you screamed at him, “You will pay! I swear that you will regret this!”

Jeremiah tilted his head, fixing you with a calm and patronizing glare, “Come now, he’ll live. We’ve all been through worse than that, I can assure you.”

“He needs help,” you said, your voice betraying you by cracking in the middle of the sentence, “He’s losing blood, you can’t let him die…”

“The human body can lose a lot more blood before that happens, Ms. L/N. “ You heard him step towards you, “He can get himself help once we’re gone… wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, would we?”

It broke your heart in two to think of leaving Edward, and to go with this vile, despicable man standing before you, but you knew that you had no choice. You gave Edward one last, long look, trying to memorize every line, every little thing about him before you wiped your nose on your arm and stood up. You were no longer trembling, only numb with shock. Jeremiah sweeped one arm outward, motioning for you to step out the front door where the thug from earlier waited, watching you like a hawk. You exited the apartment slowly, hearing Jeremiah say, “We will be in touch, Mr. Nygma,” as he followed suit. As the thug behind you nudged you forward, you could hear Jeremiah say, more to himself than you, “It was for the best, really. Think with your head, not your heart.”

Your hatred for him bubbled up like bile in your throat, your eyes brimming with angry tears. You bit your tongue, knowing that anything you said could get you hurt and may put the baby in danger. Through everything you were feeling– the hatred, pain, fear, sorrow– you knew that you had to do anything to protect your unborn child. With that thought in mind you raised your head high, blinking away your tears, and let yourself be led down the hallway, into the elevator, and to step outside of the apartment building into the backseat of a white van. As soon as you sat down you were forcibly strapped in, the thug grinning, “Safety first,” before grabbing a burlap sack and shoving it over your head, and all went dark.


	2. chapter two

You weren’t sure how long you’d been strapped into the backseat of the van, but by the time it came to a halt you were certain you had to be somewhere on the outskirts of Gotham city. The tires screeched to a halt on what felt like a pothole-ridden drive and suddenly a blast of warm, humid air wafted over you as the doors swung open and the burlap sack was removed from your head. “Where are you taking me?” You questioned, wincing against the bright light flooding your senses.

“That’s for me to know and you to never find out, princess.” 

The thug moved to unbuckle your seatbelt but you beat him to it, muttering, “I can handle that much myself, thanks.”

He grabbed a hold of your arm and yanked you out of the van, your feet hitting the asphalt drive with a solid thunk. This was certainly _not_ an area you recognized: Surrounding you were three large, decrepit warehouses, looking on the outside as if no one had entered them in years. Windows were shattered, rust streaming down the walls, and doors either padlocked shut or hanging off their rusted hinges. Above the warehouse a clear blue sky and unforgiving sun shone harshly down on them, and you could see waves of heat emanating from the rooftops. There was about fifty feet between each warehouse but no signs that indicated what they may have been previously. On all sides surrounding the warehouses was a vast expanse of land, a field overgrown with long grass, weeds, and brush that stretched as far as your eyes could see. You swiveled your head around, desperately hoping to get a glimpse of Gotham’s skyline to at least get an idea of which direction they’d taken you, but quickly gave up as Jeremiah’s voice piped up from behind you,

“Not too much to look at, is it? Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you’re comfortable.” Jeremiah’s croney chuckled at that. You bit your lip, worrying it between your teeth as you realized a sniper was stationed upon each warehouse’s rooftop, each rifle aimed directly at you. Your heart sank as you realized you’d never be able to make a break for it; even if you did manage to escape you’d never make it far enough away through the fields before one of them spotted you, especially as pregnant as you were. A shiver ran down your spine as you pictured the target on your back.

“What is this place?” Your question was met with a sigh as Jeremiah strolled up beside you.

“If I told you that it would lose all the fun,” he said in a deadpan voice. You weren’t sure if he even knew what that word meant. “I will show you to your quarters. Collins,” the thug stood to attention, “Make yourself useful and let the others know that a guest has arrived. And you,” his somber gaze met yours, “know what will happen if you attempt anything untoward, correct?”

You nodded, remembering the gun he still kept in his pocket, the one he’d shot Edward with. Worry flooded your mind as you remembered leaving him wounded and bleeding on the apartment floor, and you hoped with every last part of you that he was able to get help. Your body ached with missing him and you wanted nothing more than to spit in Jeremiah’s face and take off running. ‘The baby,’ you thought, ‘remember the baby.’ You took a deep breath and steadied yourself as the burly man stalked away and Jeremiah began to walk towards the warehouse on the right.

“Do keep up, Ms. L/N,” he called over his shoulder. You eyed the snipers, their sights still aimed at you, and reluctantly followed behind him. He led you through a padlocked door on the side of the warehouse as you carefully avoided touching any of the rusted edges, eyeing some sharp nails that littered the steps up to the doorway with wariness. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a tetanus shot and a hesitancy settled into your footsteps, knowing that you had to be very careful.

You had to blink hard to adjust to the darkness inside the warehouse, and without being used to it yet you couldn’t see what was lurking inside the shadows. “Is there a light? A hurt hostage won’t do you much good if you’re trying to get Edward to help you.”

“There’s been no electricity in this building for years,” he responded, adding snidely, “And I never said you wouldn’t get hurt, now did I?”

Taking in a shaky breath you zipped your lips and kept your eyes pointed to the ground, hoping to adjust quickly to the lack of light. You could make out vague shapes of work tables and heavy machinery as you twisted and turned throughout the labyrinth they created around you. Finally you reached a set of stairs heading downward and Jeremiah turned to face you, the little bit of light in the room reflecting off his sickly pale skin. “After you.”

Your feet hit the first step lightly, the soft noise of the impact echoing down the stone steps. You couldn’t tell how far down they went and when you strained your ears to listen you could’ve sworn you’d heard the scrabble of tiny claws against concrete. _‘Please, no rats,’_ you thought to yourself and kept going down. The stairway twisted to the left when you got about ten steps down, then twisted again when you hit the next landing, then another. At this point there was absolutely no light in the stairwell, and you had to brace yourself on the wall with every step you took, hoping you wouldn’t trip and fall. Finally you reached the bottom level and you felt Jeremiah (at least, you hoped it was Jeremiah as asinine as that was) brush past you, rattling around with what sounded like a tiny metal bucket. Suddenly a light sprang up in front of you. ‘Thank god,’ you sighed gratefully, ‘a lantern.’

Directly in front of you was a wooden door, illuminated a ghastly orange-brown in the flickering lantern flames. J reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a set of keys, inserting one into the large deadbolt and turning it with a resounding ‘ _clack’_. It was a sliding door, and it looked like no one had opened it in years from the amount of effort J was putting into pushing it to the side. The door creaked and groaned and stirred up a cloud of dust, and you coughed to clear your lungs as you squinted through the settling dust. You walked through the open doorway and into a room roughly the size of a small dining room; five or six people would be a crowd in here. There were no windows in the room, but lining the cinder block walls were six unlit lanterns, cobwebs adorning the handles as they hung from their rusted hooks. “Hold this,” Jeremiah thrusted the lantern in your hand and took out a matchbook, striking one and lighting each lantern. Luckily they still had lighter fluid in them and they lit up quickly, illuminating the room. There was a small cot in the corner with yellowed sheets and a lumpy-looking mattress, but nothing else.

“I can’t stay here,” you said quietly, overwhelmed by the prospect of being in this room all alone, “I have a baby to think of, I need medical attention, it could be any day now…”

“You’ll be taken care of, Ms. Y/N, and so will your child so long as Edward is cooperative.” Somehow you doubted that, but you nodded at his response all the same. Edward would find you, and you and your baby would be safe. He had to. There was no other option, no room for failure.

Thinking of Edward made your blood boil and you wanted to lash out at Jeremiah, run to Edward and make sure he was safe. Instead you quipped, “I didn’t know you could take over Gotham from an abandoned field in the middle of nowhere.”

Jeremiah smirked at your attempt to be rude, “We’re playing the long game, Ms. Y/N. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he brushed past you on his way towards the door, “I think you should be quite comfortable in this arrangement. Someone will be down to give you meals. You could yell if you need anything, but I’m not certain anyone would hear you.” He tipped his head at you and closed the door behind him, leaving you seething with rage.

* * *

 

Hours passed, then days, until you saw another living being– you lay upon the lumpy cot, staring blankly up at the ceiling, trying to count all the cracks and and specks that you could to distract yourself when you heard heavy footsteps approach. Your heart raced and you bolted upright, pushing back on the cot until your back thudded against the cold wall. The deadbolt switched and the door was slid open, the person on the other end gruntig with the effort, and for one hopeful second you dreamed it could be Edward coming to your rescue. But no, in stepped Collins, metal tray in hand and scowling per usual.

“Here,” he grunted, placing the tray on the ground, “Boss says to make sure you’re settled in. You comfy?” Before you could answer he said, “Yeah, you look great. Bon appetit,” and left the room.

Your heart sank and you looked over at the tray in disdain, noticing what looked like a PB&J and a half-full cup of water. You were ravenous and, despite wanting to deny anything they offered to you, you knew that you had to eat. You stood up from the bed slowly, wobbling a little bit on unsteady feet, and made your way over to the tray. Your hands trembled as you picked up the sandwich, eating it slowly and savoring every bite, washing it down with the warm water they’d given you. When you were done you picked up the tray and tossed it at the door with all your might, wincing when it clattered against the concrete floor, the tinny sound reverberating all around you.

A small chunk of wood had broken off of the door when the metal impacted it and you picked the piece up, eyeing it carefully. You wondered if you’d be able to chip away at the door enough to wear it down and kick it through, but just as you were thinking that heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs and Collins unlatched the door and slid it open, “What the hell?!” 

His eyes fell on you, then the tray, then the piece of wood in your hand and he lunged at you, wrestling the wood from your hand and grabbing the tray off the floor. “Don’t get any ideas, and keep it down. Boss-man’s workin’ up there and I don’t have time to keep playin’ babysitter.”

The door slid shut once more and you laid back down in the bed, covering your eyes with your arm and groaning in despair. How much longer would they keep you in here? Was Edward okay? Was he on his way to rescue you? Your head buzzed with a million thoughts, all rushing through you at once, and you closed your eyes, trying to shut them out. Your heart ached with loneliness and a tear slid down your cheek. You wiped it away angrily, but then gasped in surprise when you felt a kick from the baby. You hadn’t felt them move in days, ever since you were taken hostage, but feeling them move around now, alive and well, made you feel not so alone. You rested your hands atop your belly, feeling them kick, and your heart sank at the idea of possibly having this baby in captivity, in this hellhole, away from Edward. “Stay in there, little one,” you muttered to them, “I know your dad will be coming soon.”

* * *

 

The days came and went slowly, the only indication of their passing the infrequent meals that would be delivered by Collins or some other grimacing croney. Some days you stared at the ceiling, others you counted the number of cinder blocks on the wall, and often you’d just watch the flames ebb and flow in the lanterns suspended from the walls. Two of the six lanterns had flickered out already, the lack of light casting long shadows on some parts of the wall.

Today you were out of bed, walking aimlessly around the room, dragging your hand across the cold walls while you circled the perimeter. You never thought it possible to be this bored but here you were, about ready to scream in frustration. You reached the wooden door and glanced it over, noticing again the chunk of wood missing from the impact with the metal tray. You ran your hand along it and scratched at its edge, trying to pull up a little more of the wood, grinning triumphantly when a little sliver of it gave way. Now you had a new goal: Tear the door apart, piece by piece, until you could kick it down and run. Impractical, and sure to hurt, but it was worth a shot, at least to your frazzled mind.

You spent hours chipping away at the door, and by the time you heard footsteps coming down the staircase you were able to have gouged out a shallow inch-long circle from the wood. You scrambled backwards away from the door and threw the tiny wood pieces underneath your cot, hoping no one would notice. As the door slid open you expected Collins to deliver your usual lackluster meal, but were surprised when it was a new croney altogether– taller and lankier than Collins, and no scowl in sight. “Here you go, miss,” he held the tray out to you and you eyed him curiously, “Please take it.”

You approached him warily and grabbed the tray from his hands. He nodded and looked deeply into your eyes before giving your shoulder a tight squeeze and leaving the room. Your brow furrowed in confusion as you heard the lock click back into place and his footsteps lightly make their way upward. You looked down at the food– some grapes and what looked like a bologna sandwich– and then back up at the door, wondering what the hell just happened.

You took the tray to your cot, sitting down with a sigh. The grapes were overripe and mushy so you moved on to the sandwich, taking a small bite and grimacing when you tasted something odd in there. Putting it down in disgust, you noticed a little white corner peeking out from the edge you’d bitten, and you pulled up the bread, revealing a scrap of paper slathered with mustard on one side. Your heart began to race as you lifted the paper up carefully, brushing as much of the mustard onto the bread as you could, and opened it with trembling fingers. It was hard to read because of how damp it was, but you could still just make out the words scrawled in tiny print:

_I don’t have time to explain– this room is being watched. My name is Harry and I am going to get you out of here. Don’t give up hope._

A hand shot to your mouth to stifle the sob that escaped from you then, eyes welling with tears of joy as you read the note over and over again. Who was this man? Why was he helping you? He had to know how dangerous that would be. You felt hope for the first time since this whole thing began, and you tucked it snugly away into the back pocket of your pants, laying down on the cot and daydreaming of your escape.


	3. chapter three

You knew something was wrong from the moment you woke up. Your head began to pound upon opening your eyes and you tried to sit up, but immediately collapsed back down on the cot when a wave of nausea overtook you. You rolled over onto your side, as best you could with the baby bump in your way, and dry-heaved over the side of the cot. When nothing came out you sat up again, trying to ignore the nausea, and you stood up from the bed, going to knock on the door and beg for some water. Your lower back began to throb the second you put pressure on it and your hand shot back to hold the spot, rubbing circles into it in an attempt to make the pain go away. You raised a fist and pounded on the door as hard as you could, yelling, “Hey! Is anyone there?” No answer came and you tried, again, “Hey! Please! I need someone’s help! Something’s not right!” 

A few minutes passed of you pounding on the door, shouting until your voice was hoarse. Collins was the one who entered, sliding the door open with a scowl, “Geez, didn’t you hear me say I was comin’?! Pregnant women, I swear…” He immediately stopped talking upon looking at your face, “You don’t look so good, everything okay?” 

At that moment your body was wracked in pain, a horrid cramp causing you to double over in pain and cry out. Collins ran to your side and yelled for help, and you distantly registered a trickle of fluid running down both your legs. “No,” you moaned, “No, this can’t happen here, I can’t do this here…” 

The baby was on its way.

It felt like hours passed from the moment Collins yelled for help and when they actually arrived, but you knew it must have only been minutes, the pain tearing through your body elongating every second. Contractions were hitting you hard and fast, knocking the wind from you and you focused on breathing through them as the others flooded into the room. Your eyes were narrowed in pain while you concentrated on not passing out, but through your blurry vision you saw three more people, two of them women, file into the room, one with a leather suitcase in hand. She motioned for the others to grab the cot in the corner and they complied, bringing it close behind you as Collins helped you lay back down, muttering, “I don’t get paid enough for this shit, I’m tellin’ you.”

The woman with the suitcase yanked it open and you saw a wide array of medical supplies, “Please tell me you have drugs in there,” you begged her, but she shook her head ‘no’ as she pulled on a pair of black rubber gloves. You bit back a scream as another wave of contractions hit you and sobbed when the other woman began undoing your pants, sliding them off as you cried, “This can’t be happening, not here, please…”

“Oh, it’s happening,” she said, gingerly removing your underwear, “Aint nothing you can do to stop it now.”

“Aw, Christ,” Collins swore, “I’m gettin’ out of here. That’s just nasty. Come on, T,” he said to the other guy in the room, “Let’s scram before the boss gets here.” 

They scrambled up the stairs, leaving just you and the two women alone in the cold, lantern-lit room. “This is going to hurt,” said the woman with the suitcase, “If you need to scream, just do it. No one’s judging you here, not today.”

Another contraction hit and you howled in pain, screaming as you felt like you were on fire from your chest all the way down to your knees. You were seeing stars with the effort of keeping conscious, all the while thinking,  _ This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening. Not without Edward.  _

The suitcase woman got out a large pair of scissors and what looked like big clamps, saying in a humorless voice, “You better settle in for a long night, sister.”

 

* * *

 

Lantern light flickered all around you, casting ghastly shadows on the walls, contorting with every move the two women made. There was no way to tell how much time had passed since the contractions began; all you knew was that you were being torn in two and it was almost unbearable. Your body dripped with sweat and the metal of the bedframe bit into the palms of your hands as you gripped on for dear life, cursing at the women as they coached you through each wave, feeling yourself getting closer and closer with each push. “How much,” you panted, “how much longer? I can’t do this anymore.”

“Not much longer,” the woman holding the unsanitary tongs said from behind the woman between your legs. You yelled out as another wave of pain tore through you, and barely registered the door opening and closing off to the side. 

Your head flopped to the side in exhaustion and you realized, to your immense horror, that Jeremiah had entered the room and was observing the scene from the corner of the room, motioning for the woman with the tongs to come towards him. She immediately complied, dropping the tongs on the foot of the bed and rushing to his side. “ _ PUSH, _ ” the woman between your legs yelled, and you did so, shouting in agony, praying that this would all be over soon; or better yet, that this was some god-awful nightmare that you’d wake up from any moment… and in your dazed state of mind you thought you heard the other woman say, “Look what we found, boss. She’s been hidin’ this in her pants; can’t tell how long she’s had it.”

There wasn’t much time to focus on what she’d said before the woman bet your legs bellowed to the other, “ _ Get over here _ , it’s coming!” 

Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest and your eyes screwed shut in pain as you pushed again, for what felt like the millionth time, every part of you on fire and drenched in sweat and dirt and feeling like you would never be clean again. Your head was spinning, you were so drained, the pain unbearable as you felt the baby crest and the woman with the tongs yelled in excitement. Through it all-- your screams, the women yelling orders at each other and the others who had gathered in the room, the pounding of your heart-- you knew you had to hang on just a little bit longer, struggling to maintain consciousness until suddenly it was over and you heard someone yell, “It’s a girl!” over the sound of shrill cries as everything faded to black.


	4. chapter four

When you finally regained consciousness the first thing you noticed was an incessant pounding in your temples, your head aching so much that your ears were ringing in the otherwise complete silence of the room. Every part of you was fatigued, your muscles protesting as you tried to sit up, looking around the dimly-lit room for any sign of life. To your left was a jug full of water and you lunged for it, body aching in protest, immediately gulping down the entire container. Your headache began to lessen almost immediately, and you realized that through everything you had gotten dangerously dehydrated. You wondered how long you had been out.

Looking around the room, the realization hit you like a ton of bricks: Your baby was nowhere to be seen. You scanned the room in a panic, noting the pile of clothing you’d previously been in and a new white robe you’d been dressed in while you were out like a light. There were bandages and towels strewn about the floor as well, and what looked like a hastily-made PB&J on the floor next to the now-empty jug of water. A wave of adrenaline coursed through you and you leapt out of bed, nearly crumpling to the floor under your weak legs and the pain that tore through your lower half. You steadied yourself and took a deep breath, staggering to the wooden door and pounding with balled-up fists.

“HEY,” you yelled, voice cracking from the strain, “WHERE IS MY BABY?!” No one answered and panic flooded your senses, your blood boiling in equal parts rage and desperation, “DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER! LET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!”

You heard footsteps pounding down the stairs and continued banging on the door, only pausing when you heard Collins yell from behind it, “Hey, boss! Crazy’s awake! She don’t sound too happy, neither.”

“Give me my fucking baby, you asshole!” You kicked the door, willing it to give way, but instead yelped in pain when it remained solidly in place. You heard Collins chuckle and begin to walk up the stairs, whistling to himself. While the sounds of his tuneless whistling began to fade you heard another lighter set of footsteps began to make its way slowly towards you. You quickly wiped away your tears of frustration, backing up from the door when the locks clicked and the door began to slide open. 

To your displeasure it was Jeremiah who stepped through the doorway, neat and tidy as ever in his purple jacket and slicked-back hair. You felt hatred rise like bile in your throat and balled your hands into fists. 

“You are quite the fighter, Ms. Y/N,” he said coolly, giving you a once-over in your white robe. You felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment and pulled the robe close to your body to try and shield from his gaze. He smirked at the uncomfortable look on your face and continued, “The midwives weren’t sure if you’d make it through the delivery, but here you are, fiery as ever.”

He paused, and you wondered if he was complimenting you or chastising you. Either way his gaze unnerved you and you crossed your arms in defiance. “Where is my child?”

“She’s being attended to,” he drawled, “No need to worry. We'll pay the utmost care and attention to her.”

Rage overtook you and you tried to bite your tongue from screaming at him. “She needs her mother.  _ Please _ . You can’t keep her away from me, this isn’t right.”

“Now, now,” Jeremiah shook his head in feigned dismay, “If we’re going to talk about what’s right and what’s wrong, I’m going to have to share some unpleasant news with you. Collins, please bring in our guest.”

The door swung open again and a man was shoved into the room, Collins following closely behind him. Your mind began to spin as you realized it was the man who’d passed you the note just a short while ago, the man who identified himself as Harry. He was bound at the wrists and gagged, blood dripping from his nose that looked to be broken and both eyes darkened in bruises. He looked to you, fear in his eyes as Collins pushed him to the ground so that he was kneeling in front of Jeremiah. You shook your head in disbelief. 

“If we are to discuss what’s right and wrong, Ms. Y/N,” Jeremiah’s gaze bored into you, unwavering, “I would have to ask you one thing: How right is it that you try and run away from us, given our hospitality? Haven’t we provided for you, done our best to ensure you’re comfortable in your stay here?”

You looked at him incredulously, at a loss for words. He paused for effect, then continued, “It seems as if you haven’t appreciated our efforts, and that simply will not do.”

Before you could register what was happening, Jeremiah reached into his pocket, pulled out a shotgun, and shot the man in front of him without a second’s hesitation. You screamed as the body hit the floor, a gaping bullet wound through his left eye socket as the right eye stared lifelessly at the ceiling. You fell to your knees and buried your face in your hands, unsuccessfully trying to stifle the sobs that wracked your body. You managed to grit out, “How could you?” 

“We couldn’t have you leaving us so soon,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Especially not now that we are so lucky as to have  _ two _ guests to entertain.”

You looked up at Jeremiah, hatred in your eyes, “If you think holding our child hostage is going to make Edward bow down to you you are sorely mistaken, he will come at you with everything he’s got,” 

Jeremiah grinned wickedly, “Oh, I plan on it. You see, he’s been less than helpful ever since since we started this little arrangement, going so far as to try and ambush my men on their way to a job last night. All of my men dead. Messy work, indeed,” he mused, “ I think it’s time to end our one-sided partnership…” 

You took in a shaky breath as he continued “And you just saw what happens when someone is less than cooperative. I take my partnerships  _ very  _ seriously.” 

Your eyes started to well up with tears but you blinked them away defiantly. “I’ll kill you,” you spat at him, “If you hurt Edward, or touch my child, I swear I will kill you.” 

Jeremiah’s face lit up, a twisted, gleeful look on his face as he replied, “I look forward to it, Ms Y/N”    


With that, Jeremiah turned around and began to head to the exit, Collins dragging Harry’s dead body carelessly behind him and leaving a smeared trail of blood in its wake. “Ah, wait,” he said dramatically, ushering Collins to go ahead of him and the thug did so, heavy footsteps lumbering up the stairs as Jeremiah fixed his gaze on you again. He reached into a pocket on the inside of his purple jacket and brandished what looked like a small square of paper, the back of which was reflecting the flickering lights of the lanterns. He held it out to you expectantly, “I wanted you to have this.”

You made no move to take the item from him and he shrugged, sighing as he placed the square on the ground next to the door and made his exit, the locks latching shut with a loud clack. Heart still thudding in your chest you scrambled to pick up the object and flipped it over, letting out a sob upon realizing what the object was. In your hands was a polaroid picture of your daughter, cradled in Jeremiah’s arms, Jeremiah looking off over the camera at something, eyes cold and uncaring. From the looks of it your daughter was sound asleep, swaddled in a tiny green blanket. You screamed in frustration, pounding on the door and crying for your baby back. 

After a while you wore yourself out and exhaustion washed over you, feeling numb and hopeless. You made your way back to the cot, stained and stinking from the delivery, and laid down on it, staring longingly at the photo. A lantern flickered out across from you and by the time your eyes might’ve adjusted to the change in light you had already drifted into a fitful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can also follow the story and progress updates @ my Tumblr under the same name (riddlewrappedinanenygma). Please leave a review if you can, I'd love to hear what you think!


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